by
Marc H. Wyman & Chris Bogues
“Did
you enjoy the gathering?” Darawk asked absentmindedly, bent over a pile
of parchment on the table before him.
Alyssa
grunted unhappily. “Sure did, brother of mine. I nearly tore Haguen’s
stupid head from his shoulders.”
“How
nice.”
The
old man chuckled lightly, receiving a withering glance from the goddess
who then turned the same glare on her brother. “Then I stuffed Mannannan
into an amphora, sent it spinning endlessly. After that I took Koultirsp
and Haguen, and bashed them into Decirius’ tower. When the lower levels
were completely demolished, I went to see Decirius and threw him from the
highest point of his home.”
“I’m
sure you had a good time. Hold this, please.”
Not
turning around, Darawk held out a stack of parchments, and Alyssa sighed
heavily when she took them, while her brother dug through the pile that
had been beneath the first stack, reordering the parchments. “You know,
brother of mine, occasionally it would be nice if you actually listened to
what I say.”
Darawk
cried eagerly when he found a particular sheet, scanned its contents
quickly before placing it carefully on the table. Then he blinked and
turned towards Alyssa with an innocent look. “But I do listen to you all
the time, my dear. There is no reason for complaint, believe me.”
“Oh?”
Alyssa grinned mischievously. “Then what did I just tell you?”
Darawk
shrugged. “You were ranting about how you would like to hurt Mannannan,
Koultirsp, Haguen and Decirius. Really, dear sister, these fantasies of
yours are not exactly new – although I do appreciate the enthusiasm you
put into diversifying them.”
Her
jaw dropped. Gaping at her brother, she could have sworn that somewhere
behind that insufferably innocent face was a smug grin. Somewhere. And he
better not show it openly! Alyssa was in the right mood to make at least one
of her fantasies come true!
“At
least I’m doing something,” she sighed. “Better than sifting through
some documents. The old man and I were trying to get the other gods to put
their minds together. But those fools can barely stay in the same room for
more than five minutes before picking a fight!”
Darawk
frowned and cast a quick glance across the room to the old man. The
stranger was sitting in a wicker chair by a manhigh window, tugging on his
tattered coat. “You haven’t –“ Darawk started, swallowing the rest
of his words quickly.
The
old man raised his eyebrows, then smiled wistfully. “Do not worry, my
young friend, I have not. The warning of your abode’s lord were very
clear, and I do not wish to anger the, as your sister put it,
‘pasty-faced baboon’ anymore than I already have. What is a baboon, by
the way?”
“A
baboon?” Darawk asked cheerfully. “A marvelous little thing these
creatures are. Made by the same abode who devised the mongoose, as far as
I know. They came up with baboons a few dozen millenia ago. Their shape
–“
“Excuse
me?” Alyssa interjected angrily. “What are you talking about
– and don’t say baboons, brother! You know exactly what I mean!”
The
god’s face fell as he saw the fury in his sister’s eyes. After
withstanding her fire for a few moments he hurriedly turned back to the
pile of documents. “I’m sorry, I have no idea. Now if you’ll pardon
me, I –“
“You’re
going to answer me!” the goddess shouted and waved her hand up and down.
A sudden gust of wind came out of nowhere and scattered the papers from
Darawk’s table. He leaped up, tried vainly to catch a few of the sheets,
gave up when even three quickly grown arms would not suffice.
“Why
did you do that?” he shouted and raised his (currently five) arms
exasperatedly.
“I
can do much worse,” Alyssa promised, “if you don’t speak up now. I
could go reading in your library with a torch. By accident, of course, I
might set a few of those precious volumes aflame.”
In
his wicker chair the old man watched with interest – and quite a bit of
surprise about the nasty turn the discussion seemed to have taken.
Darawk
on the other hand showed only frustration rather than fear or anger. “My
books are fireproof, you know that. Please, sister, don’t ask any more.
Decirius –“
“He’s
frightened you,” Alyssa said with sudden calm. She put a hand on her
forehead, took a deep breath, then made a wicker chair appear behind her
so she could sit down. “Our chief god has frightened you. A god that
you’ve known for all your existence. I could accept Lonapal acting like
a vole and scurrying to the next hole, or Haguen deluding himself that
he’s doing his duty. But you… Darawk, dear, you…” Her voice
trailed off.
The
god of knowledge shook his head slowly, then stepped forward and put his
hand on her shoulder. “Something has happened to all of us, it seems.
Lately I’ve come to sympathize with the creatures of the midrealm, like
the villagers you and Lonapal fancy. They spend their existence at our
whim, expecting dread and joy at every heartbeat.”
Alyssa
closed her eyes, rested her head for a moment on his hand, then she gently
pushed it away and got back to her feet. “We are not midrealm creatures,
Darawk,” she said, every word growing more forceful. “We are gods.
It’s about time we acted that way. What’s the worst Decirius could do
to us? Throw us out of the abode?”
She
was close to regaining the old fury, ready to rattle off some more angry
words – then she noticed a strange expression on her brother’s face.
One that was mirrored on the old man’s. “He did not! Decirius didn’t
say he’d throw you out of the Eternal City!”
“Sister,
I –“
“Shut
up,” Alyssa muttered. Quickly she started to pace up and down the length
of Darawk’s study, ignoring his indignated looks, while she tapped her
fingers on her lips. The god of knowledge shook his head, folded his arms
before his chest – and realized that the fifth had no paired number. He
grunted, then dropped the supernumerous limbs. Meanwhile Alyssa was
rambling to herself, “Something made Decirius do this. Something… The
old man? No, not he alone. Decirius has a plan, one that he doesn’t want
anybody else to know. So he locks us up, keeps us from finding out
anything. Is he worried that other abodes may find out? The old man could
be a spy…”
In
his wicker chair the old man raised an eyebrow at that comment, a light
smile playing on his lips as if amused that he could be thought of as a
spy.
Alyssa
continued her pacing and mumbling. Finally satisfied with the number of
his arms, Darawk commented, “Sister, he has not kept all of us in the
Eternal City. Maidoyú has escaped, and Taurkémad left a short while
before the gate was closed.”
“What?”
Alyssa whirled about in a graceful pirouette, her skirt flying up for a
moment. “You’re absolutely right, brother of mine! Taurkémad left before!
Decirius wouldn’t care about Maidoyú, the little girl doesn’t know
her own mind, what else would she know? But Taurkémad… Taurkémad,
she’s different!”
The
old man leaned forward in his chair, resting his hands on his walking
stick. “In what way is she different?” he inquired gently.
“She
has a brain, for one thing,” Alyssa shot back, paced three more steps,
then came to a halt at an equal distance from the two male gods. “And
she cares about the midrealm. Darawk, you just mentioned them. But Taurkémad
frets only about her dwarves. She took part in creating them, after all.
Decirius convinced her some while ago that only he should talk to the
dwarves, which took all his wit to accomplish. Or… did he?”
“What
are you thinking?” Darawk asked, clearly intrigued by her line of
thought. “Mind you,” he hastily added, “I am not inquiring
about why the abode has been locked down. Only about Taurkémad.”
“Granted,”
Alyssa waved the added words away, then tapped a finger against her lips
in an even rhythm. “What if the two of them lied to us? What if Taurkémad
had been in on Decirius’ little game from the start? She pretended to
relent, but she still kept in touch with the dwarves, thus furthering our
chief god’s goals.”
“Well…”
Darawk sighed and sat down casually on his desk. In the process he
wrinkled several sheets that had still stayed on the tabletop. The god
glared at them with a mixture of frustration and anger that the sheets
would thus betray him, then he shook his head and continued, “Taurkémad
has been visiting the cave of the dwarves every other century or
so, when they sleep. She’s taken a number of their artefacts and
displays them in her home. Decirius hasn’t complained.”
Alyssa
nodded quickly. “No, he hasn’t. If they had been honest, he would have
forbidden her from going to the dwarves, right? After all, how could Taurkémad
be sure that one of them wouldn’t wake and see her?”
“I
think,” Darawk said with a glint in his eyes, “you are on to something
here, sister of mine.”
The
goddess curtsied gracefully, a naughty grin on her face. “Why, thank
you, oh divine brother of mine. My mind’s faculties must share some of
your impeccable grandeur.”
“Excuse
me?” the old man said and tapped his walking stick on the floor. The
other gods whirled their heads about in sudden shock as if they had
forgotten about his presence. “Excuse me,” the old man repeated,
“but why did Decirius want to talk to the dwarves alone? Also,
did he convince the other abodes not to interfere? If those had a hand in
the dwarves’ creation as well, then they would have a good right to
guide the dwarves as well.”
Alyssa
frowned, but Darawk only smiled. “The dwarves are our own creation. We
used the villagers as templates and then went from there. The other abodes
only observe, but they don’t interfere. The same way I only study their
creations without questioning the motives of the creator gods.”
The
old man nodded slowly. “That still leaves open the question of why
Decirius would not allow anybody else to speak with the dwarves. Has he
stated a reason at the time?”
“It
was an experiment,” Alyssa answered. “To see if midrealm creatures
could also be creative. The dwarves were given their caves, their axes,
and the desire to form the stone. Decirius said that they should be left
to their own minds mostly, so that we could see what they produce without
any interference, save the guidance Decirius lends them.”
“But
they still worship you?” the old man wondered.
“Yes,
they do. The strength of their faith has always been with us, it has
fueled our –“ Alyssa suddenly fell silent, looking down at herself
with an expression of stupefaction on her face.
“What
is it, sister?” Darawk asked, quickly covering the distance and clasping
her hands.
She
looked up. “They do not believe anymore, brother. I do not sense their
faith within me. Do you?”
The
stupefaction grasped the god of knowledge as well. “No,” he said
slowly, worried. “There is no part of the dwarves left inside of me,
either. But… I have felt them for millenia, ever since they were
created, they have always been… Why have they stopped believing?!” The
last words became a scream, so loud that the walls started to tremble, and
Darawk quickly caught himself, looking about with embarrassment.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t
be sorry,” Alyssa fumed. “This is part of his plan, I’m sure. Take
away the worship, concentrate it on himself. We should have seen this from
the start, brother. He’s wanted the dwarven worship and power for
himself, that’s it. And Taurkémad… She must be in on it. I’m sure
that she still receives their prayers’ fuel.”
Darawk’s
head quivered, as if wondering whether to shake or to nod. “But that…
That doesn’t explain Decirius’ behavior. Or does it? I mean, we would
have found out sooner or later, and we would have questioned Decirius, or
simply gone to the midrealm to set matters right again. Being locked up
for sixty days doesn’t change that!”
“Unless,”
Alyssa said carefully, “something is happening that will only take sixty
days to be put in place.”
The
old man got to his feet, his hands still resting on the walking stick.
“My dear friends, I cannot imagine anything momentous that could be
taken care of in the blink of an eye. And what are sixty days but a blink?
Aside from that, good Darawk, I caution you to heed your lord’s words.
You have already moved too close to breaking the oath you gave him.”
Darawk’s
glance to the old man was cold enough to freeze a volcano. He didn’t say
a word.
Alyssa
felt less constrained. “You should keep your mouth shut, stranger. I am
talking to my brother, and if you should ever say something like that
again, I might wish to test my strength against yours.”
“No,
please,” the old man said gently. “I did not want to anger you. But
your brother should be more careful. To be sentenced harshly for a minor
transgression, that is a fate he should not bear.”
Before
Alyssa could speak, Darawk nodded quickly and said, “Yet a sentence
richly deserved, that is one borne gladly.” The old man smiled, then
Darawk tightened his grasp of his sister’s hands. “My dear, he is
right. I will not inquire into my chief lord’s business any longer, for I
am bound to his commands. I cannot do more than look into the
matter of dwarves, of the midrealm, of worship. Of these topics we
may speak, yet I will not go any further. Now.”
The
goddess squinted at him. “Brother of mine, you’re making less sense
since you’ve met the old man. All right, I understand. Get me that
information.” She sighed, loosened his hold and started for the door.
“Let’s meet again in a few hours, and then we’ll see whether I’ve
found out something else. I am not bound by any particular oath, after
all.”
She
swept out of the room. Darawk and the old man shared a glance.
“We
have work to do, I believe,” the god of knowledge broke the silence
after a moment, then began to gather the scattered sheets of paper,
assisted by the old man.
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